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“I am filthy. I am riddled with lice. Hogs, when they look at me, vomit. My skin is encrusted with the scabs and scales of leprosy, and covered with yellowish pus. I know neither the water of rivers nor the dew of clouds. An enormous, mushroom with umbelliferous stalks is growing on my nape, as on a dunghill. Sitting on a shapeless piece of furniture, I have not moved my limbs now for four centuries. My feet have taken root in the ground; up to my belly, they form a sort of tenacious vegetation, full of filthy parasites; this vegetation no longer has anything in common with other plants, nor is it flesh. And yet my heart beats. How could it beat, if the rottenness and miasmata of my corpse (I dare not say body), did not nourish it abundantly?” — Description of narrator in Les Chants de Maldoror in the fourth song of the Les Chants de Maldoror (1869) by Comte de Lautréamont, tr. probably Lykiard via Invisible Fences[1].

(Imaginary portrait of Lautréamont by Vallotton extracted from Le Livre des masques by the imagificent Jah Sonic)   

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